


locker room talk for dummies

by rinpanna



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (in)appropriate use of kneepads, Banter, Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip, Semi-Public Sex, Shouyou is Sexy and Atsumu is Dense, atsumu rambles about avatar the last airbender for a bit, i wouldn't say that there's d/s dynamics but shouyou's definitely in charge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinpanna/pseuds/rinpanna
Summary: “So you know how you were gonna come over to my place tonight?” Shouyou continues, seemingly unperturbed by Atsumu’s reaction.Atsumu swallows. “Yeah?”Shouyou drags his hand up the length of Atsumu’s arm until it’s cupping his shoulder. “What if we didn’t wait till we got back?”Atsumu thinks that he’s finally starting to catch Shouyou’s drift, but he still asks, “What d’ya mean?”“We’re alone”—Shouyou pointedly pans his gaze around the locker room—“and the cleaning staff won’t be around till the morning...” His eyes lock onto Atsumu’s, and he feels a familiar thrill spark to life in his gut. Okay, so theyaredoing this now. Alright. Okay. Yep. It’s happening.atsuhina fever week day 4 - fluff/locker room
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 12
Kudos: 81
Collections: AtsuHina Fever Week 2021





	locker room talk for dummies

**Author's Note:**

> > wasn’t planning on participating in fever week b/c i found out abt it “too late”  
> > saw day 1’s posts and dm’d yinnie & haz to brain rot  
> > blacked out for 3 days  
> > atshn locker room sex fic appeared in google drive
> 
> thank you sm to [bo](https://twitter.com/bos_boat) and [andie](https://twitter.com/fireheart_aw) for betaing on such short notice!! 🤧🤧 u r both treasures💞💞

Atsumu steps under the shower head, and a deep sigh leaves his lungs as the water strikes against his skin. _God_ , does the spray feel good after a long day. He stands unmoving for a minute, letting the warmth penetrate his sore muscles.

Atsumu snaps out of his trance when Shouyou starts humming in the stall to his left, a rather out-of-tune prelude to a recent pop song. Atsumu smiles and reaches for his shampoo—Shouyou might be tone deaf, but Atsumu enjoys his singing regardless. The mix of Shouyou’s own impromptu jingles and covers from the radio have become a constant in Atsumu’s life the past few months, a comforting reminder that Shouyou’s stuck around. 

Shouyou hits the chorus of the song—fully just belting it out at this point—and Atsumu chuckles into his hand; he doesn’t want to disrupt Shouyou’s private concert. While Atsumu is often subject to Shouyou’s fits of musical passion at their respective apartments, Shouyou rarely lets loose so loudly in the locker rooms, likely out of respect for their teammates. But they stayed a half hour after practice today—Atsumu helping him learn the hybrid serve—so there’s no one here to inhibit him, and Atsumu certainly won’t. Besides, there’s a special quality to the way that Shouyou’s voice bounces off the tiled walls of the open room that Atsumu finds alluring. He continues lathering his hair with shampoo, combing his fingers through his sudsy locks, as Shouyou skips ahead to the bridge. 

Just as Atsumu finishes with his conditioner, Shouyou’s shower spray cuts off and the door to his stall creaks open. Atsumu pumps a few dollops of body wash into his palm, unhurried. Unless they’re showering together, Shouyou’s always showered faster. It’s not Atsumu’s fault that he actually takes care of his hair and skin and has a routine. Apparently in high school, Shouyou used 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. When he told Atsumu that a few months back, Atsumu threatened to break up with him if that were still the case. Luckily, it wasn’t: he’s since separated his shampoo and body wash, and no longer even uses conditioner. Yet somehow the bastard still has some of the softest curls ever. Atsumu would be jealous, but he gets to play with them whenever he wants, so he’s just dandy.

Atsumu slathers himself in body wash, scrubbing himself in every nook and cranny. He’s staying over at Shouyou’s tonight, and he wants to be as clean as a whistle before they soil themselves again.

Satisfied, Atsumu shuts off the shower and plucks his towel from the hook on the stall. He quickly dries off and then wraps it around his waist, pushing open the door to the main locker room. Shouyou’s sitting on the bench in front of his locker, hunched over his forearms that are resting on his thighs.

Atsumu walks over, and Shouyou’s head whips up as he approaches. His gaze is sharp and calculated—like he’s a hawk, Atsumu his prey—and Atsumu’s heart stutters, his veins thrumming with trepidation. But Shouyou seems to soften a second later, a grin splitting across his face. 

“How was your shower?”

Atsumu pads in the direction of his locker, replying a beat late. “Good.” A wariness still grips him, his eyebrows furrowing in question. He typically knows what that look means, but has only ever seen it in the privacy of their own homes.

Shouyou catches his wrist before he can take another step. Atsumu glances down, and the hunger is back, a spark in his eyes along with his no-longer-so-innocent smile.

Atsumu blurts out the words before he can think them through. “Why d’ya look like you wanna eat me?”

Shouyou’s grin widens, and he stands up, grip still firm around Atsumu’s wrist. “And what if I do?”

Atsumu’s brows shoot to his hairline. He didn’t know how Shouyou was going to answer, but he certainly wasn’t expecting _that_.

“So you know how you were gonna come over to my place tonight?” Shouyou continues, seemingly unperturbed by Atsumu’s reaction.

Atsumu swallows. “Yeah?”

Shouyou drags his hand up the length of Atsumu’s arm until it’s cupping his shoulder. “What if we didn’t wait till we got back?”

Atsumu thinks that he’s finally starting to catch Shouyou’s drift, but he still asks, “What d’ya mean?”

“We’re alone”—Shouyou pointedly pans his gaze around the locker room—“and the cleaning staff won’t be around till the morning...” His eyes lock onto Atsumu’s, and he feels a familiar thrill spark to life in his gut. Okay, so they _are_ doing this now. Alright. Okay. Yep. It’s happening.

He looks down at Shouyou’s towel, and the spark erupts into a flame—oh, Shouyou’s tenting _badly_. Atsumu feels his own blood rush downwards at the sight. Taking a step closer, he moves a hand to Shouyou’s waist. His skin is still warm from the shower, yet Atsumu shivers. “What’s got you so impatient tonight? Your apartment’s only a few minutes away.”

Without warning, Shouyou plants his hand on Atsumu’s sternum and pushes him backwards. Caught off guard, Atsumu stumbles, his back hitting metal with a _clang_. The cold steel feels at odds with the embers crackling under his skin. Shouyou walks forward and slams his fists into the locker, framing the sides of Atsumu’s head. Despite Shouyou’s height, Atsumu feels surrounded.

Shouyou cocks his head to the side, gaze boring into Atsumu’s. “You look good after a shower. Do I need a better reason?”

Atsumu shakes his head furiously, a blush filling his cheeks. Shouyou smirks and takes a hand off of the locker, slipping his fingers under the knot of his towel. He pulls loosely at the bunch of fabric, and the towel slides off easily to reveal Shouyou’s lower half. Saliva pools in Atsumu’s mouth upon seeing Shouyou’s cock, hard and flushed. But his gaze is also caught by something else—something familiar, but not in this context.

“Why the kneepads?” Atsumu asks, head tilting to the side. They just showered, so Shouyou would’ve had to put them on _after_ he finished bathing, but it’s not like they’re going back to the gym—

Atsumu’s train of thought is cut off when Shouyou flashes a smirk, and his capacity to think completely leaves him when Shouyou raises onto his tiptoes and plants a kiss on his lips. Atsumu instinctively leans downwards, eyes slipping shut. After a second, Shouyou breaks their kiss for a quick inhale before diving back in. His tongue swipes along the seam of Atsumu’s bottom lip, and Atsumu slackens his jaw, letting Shouyou in.

Atsumu’s hands come up to cup Shouyou’s jaw, and Shouyou’s arms snake around the back of his neck to drag him down lower. Atsumu feels a coil of heat twist deep in his gut as Shouyou’s hot breath mingles with his own.

Shouyou bites down lightly on his bottom lip, and Atsumu sighs airly, lashes fluttering. As he blinks, he glimpses hints of the metal around the room, and his eyes quickly flit to the door as he remembers where they are. While there’s literally no reason anyone should be around to walk in on them, the idea that the possibility is still _there_ makes him flush in simultaneous embarrassment and arousal. God, they’ve barely done anything, and he’s nearly as hard as a rock already. It’s really insane how Shouyou continually ups the ante of their sex life, pushing the exact buttons that Atsumu didn’t even know that he had to get him going. (The first thing he unlocked within Atsumu was his latent fingers-in-the-mouth kink. Now? Semi-public sex, apparently.)

One of Shouyou’s hands begins to wander, snaking down from Atsumu’s neck to his chest. Atsumu’s breath stutters when he skims over his nipple, pausing there to rub a few light circles around the bud. At the same time, he sucks lightly on Atsumu’s tongue in his mouth, and Atsumu moans, the sound bouncing off of the walls of the empty locker room. 

“God, so hot,” Shouyou breathes into Atsumu’s mouth. His heart beat speeds up at the praise, thumping wildly against his ribs. 

He pulls his lips back from Shouyou’s to get a word in of his own, “S’all ‘cause yer just so good at this.”

Shouyou leans forward and captures Atsumu in a kiss again, his lips curling up briefly at the corners. Atsumu brings his hand to the back of Shouyou’s head, grip tightening and pulling at the damp locks. Shouyou hums appreciatively before pinching Atsumu’s nipple slowly between his fingers; Atsumu groans and tenses, savoring the rush of mild pain and ample pleasure that flows from his chest to his groin. 

Shouyou breaks their kiss, and Atsumu’s lips follow, already missing their warmth. A _clunk_ of metal sounds to Atsumu’s left, and he startles a bit as Shouyou pulls the door open, reaching into the locker. He finds what he needs quickly and retracts his hand, hiding what he picked up in his fist. Atsumu raises a brow—Shouyou’s certainly full of surprises today, isn’t he?—before Shouyou’s on him again, pressing another searing kiss into his lips. Atsumu moves to reciprocate but before he can lean into it, Shouyou’s moved to his jaw, leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of his neck. His free hand moves to Atsumu’s chest again, thumb flicking lightly over a nipple, and Atsumu sucks in a breath as electricity crackles down his spine.

Atsumu whines when Shouyou begins to suck at the skin on his clavicle. He shifts his weight to his other leg, and his dick rubs against the towel still wrapped around his waist, the ghost of a sensation still sending a rush of heat through him. God, he needs to be touched _right now_ , or he’s going to die. Unfortunately, even though he started this all without delay, Shouyou likes to set a slow pace—drawing out Atsumu’s patience to the limit and only ever giving him what he wants just as he’s about to break. 

And Atsumu knows better by now than to try to take control of the pace when Shouyou’s in _this_ kind of mood.

So he lets himself just feel, lets Shouyou’s ministrations draw out whatever noises and shivers and shocks of pleasure from him that Shouyou so demands. He is the conductor, and Atsumu is merely an instrument that defers to his deft hands and lips.

Shouyou’s mouth makes its way down Atsumu’s chest, tongue lapping over the nipple he’s not plucking; Atsumu’s hips rut up reflexively, and he lets out a curse from the lack of friction. Looking back up at Atsumu, Shouyou’s eyes shine with mirth, and Atsumu swears internally. Atsumu knows that the more desperate he appears, the longer Shouyou will draw things out—but Shouyou always makes it so hard to hold back. The semi-public element isn’t lending Atsumu a hand either, the way they’re flouting the taboo stoking the flames within him like a rush of oxygen.

Shouyou’s lips wrap around Atsumu’s nipple, and his breath stutters, skin prickling with a combination of impatience and desire. Shouyou sucks lightly, his hand moving down from Atsumu’s other nipple and gliding smoothly along his flank. Atsumu groans and then keens, chest pressing upwards into Shouyou’s mouth. His head is spinning at this point, every inch of his skin alight with nerves, every one of Shouyou’s touches like fire.

Finally, _finally_ , Shouyou’s hand moves lower, fingertips teasing at the seam of Atsumu’s towel. Atsumu’s hips lift unwittingly, a silent plea. 

“Patience, Atsumu-san,” Shouyou murmurs against his skin, but he wastes no time in ripping the towel off of Atsumu’s waist. Atsumu shivers as the cold air consumes him, a long exhale leaving through his nose.

Shouyou presses one last kiss to Atsumu’s chest before dropping to his knees, his hand moving down to wrap lightly—so, so lightly—around the head of his cock. When his grip slides down to the base, Atsumu jerks his skull backwards into the locker, eyes shutting reflexively. Shouyou’s hand leaves him for a moment, and it’s both a blessing and a curse—Atsumu _needs_ to be touched, but he also feels like he’s going to come within the minute if he doesn’t rein himself in. He sucks a long breath through his nose, willing his body to relax. 

Just as he begins to feel in control of himself again, a slick hand wraps itself around his dick and strokes upwards. The lube is a shock—that’s what Shouyou must’ve pulled out of his locker—but Atsumu can’t say that he’s surprised on a whole: Shouyou is nothing if not always prepared. Atsumu’s moan cracks at the end as Shouyou rubs his thumb in circles around his slit. Shouyou moves back down to his base, and Atsumu just barely pulls the vestiges of his sanity together for long enough to glance down at him. 

Shouyou’s looking up at him, pupils completely blown out—yet somehow their darkness burns greater than any fire. He catches Atsumu’s gaze, the corner of his mouth quirking up cheekily, before lining Atsumu’s dick up with his mouth. Ensuring that Atsum’s still watching, Shouyou sticks his tongue out and runs it along the underside of his shaft. He licks all the way to Atsumu’s tip, lapping up the remaining precome. The end of his tongue flicks a couple times against his slit, ripping a grunt from his lungs. As Atsumu’s head slams back into the locker again, hand coming up to grip at Shouyou’s hair, a lightbulb finally goes off in his mind. 

“I-I get it,” Atsumu stutters, his breath unsteady. Shouyou hums a high note in question around his cock, and a shiver runs up Atsumu’s spine before he says:

“I get the kneepads now.”

A rush of air leaves Shouyou’s lungs, but it’s muffled by the dick in his mouth. He pulls off, giggling in earnest now, his hand hovering in front of his mouth. Atsumu laments the loss of friction and doesn’t necessarily enjoy being laughed at in the middle of sex, but he supposes that it’s deserved. Besides, Shouyou’s laugh causes something warm to bloom in Atsumu’s chest—different from the rest of the charged head of the evening, much softer around the edges.

Atsumu runs his hand through his half-dry locks as Shouyou finally sucks in a full breath, steadying himself. He grins up at Atsumu, a genuine smile.

“God, you are _so_ cute,” Shouyou says before, without warning, diving back down on Atsumu’s cock. The chuckle that was about to leave him at Shouyou’s comment morphs into a wheeze when he feels Shouyou’s lips close around him.

Wrapping a hand around his base, Shouyou leans forward until his lips meet his fist. His grip tightens—firm but not harsh—before he starts moving, bobbing his head up and down along Atsumu’s length. Atsumu’s eyes squeeze shut as he gets lost in the sensation, the wet warmth sending waves of heat through his veins with each stroke. He soon notices that another sound has joined the fray—a wet slapping that Atsumu’s entirely familiar with. Atsumu cracks an eye open and peaks downwards to see Shouyou’s hand fisted around his own dick, moving in time with his lips over Atsumu. A manic rush of blood plummets straight down to Atsumu’s cock at the sight, a trembling sigh escaping through his parted lips.

After a few more pumps, Shouyou pulls back, mouth going lax. Atsumu only has a second to prepare himself for what’s coming next before Shouyou swirls his tongue clockwise around his tip. Saliva squelches lewdly around in his mouth as he picks up the pace, moving in rapid circles around Atsumu.

“ _Fuuuuuck_ ,” Atsumu breathes, his legs trembling as his grip tightens in Shouyou’s hair. They’ve been dating for months—hooking up for even longer—and yet Atsumu’s somehow still surprised every single time they do this at just how _good_ Shouyou is at it. The pressure in his groin builds with each lap, and when Shouyou slows down, Atsumu can’t help that he jerks forward, desperate for more. Despite his attempts to hold himself back, his hips keep stuttering in shallow thrusts, his body completely out of his control. It just feels so good; Shouyou feels so good _—_

Shouyou moves his hands to Atsumu’s ass and _squeezes_ , fingers curling roughly inwards; Atsumu hisses as his fingernails burn crescents into his flesh. With the prickles of pain comes a hint of clarity, and Atsumu’s hips finally still—warning received.

Atsumu opens his eyes and looks down at Shouyou, an apology on the tip of his tongue. But before he can speak, Shouyou sucks in a full breath through his nose, pulls Atsumu forward by the ass, and plunges straight down to his base, his nose hitting Atsumu’s happy trail. Atsumu hits the back of his throat, and it spasms around his head. The tightness, the warmth, the way that Shouyou’s eyes are squeezed shut, his focus completely on taking Atsumu all the way down—Atsumu’s hit with a rush that scrambles his mind to bits.

“Fuck, yes, Shouyou, ah—” Atsumu starts spewing whatever words come into his head, turning into a garbled mess as Shouyou flexes his throat. His noises become completely incoherent as Shouyou lifts off an inch just to drive himself home again, his throat wrapping around Atsumu’s head once more. Shouyou rakes his nails down Atsumu’s ass onto his hamstrings, the light sting punching a breathy moan out of Atsumu’s chest.

Shouyou tucks in his chin as he slams himself onto Atsumu again, taking him impossibly deeper. God, Atsumu’s never asked if Shouyou was, like, born without a gag reflex or if he trained himself how to not choke, but he sure takes full advantage of it. Both of Atsumu’s hands come to the top of Shouyou’s head, tugging harshly at his locks. Atsumu is on fire from head to toe, and he isn’t sure if his next move is to pull him off or drive him down further.

Before Atsumu can give in to either urge, Shouyou pops off completely, a slew of breaths rushing in and out of his lungs. Atsumu can’t deny that the loss is unfortunate—he’s only going to last for a bit longer, at this rate—but he understands that even Shouyou is a mortal who has to take a literal breather. Shouyou’s hands drop off of his calves to hover above the ground, his eyes flicking around the floor for something. Eyes sparkling, Shouyou grabs at something out of Atsumu’s sight; Atsumu cranes his neck forward to find him squirting lube onto his fingers. Atsumu’s brows furrow slightly—what could Shouyou be planning _next_?—but he’s more concerned with assessing the bottle in Shouyou’s hand: it’s a brand he doesn’t recognize, and the tube is tiny, about the size of one of those hotel shampoo bottles.

But, as the rest of the evening has gone, Shouyou swallows Atsumu back down before he can get a word in. The question he was about to posit transforms into a moan as Shouyou sucks on his head, a slick hand squeezing his balls in tandem. A new sensation when Atsumu already feels this late into the game—he’s barely holding on.

“Shouyou-kun, I’m—” Atsumu warns, but there’s suddenly a thumb on the underside of his head, pointer finger on the other side. Atsumu’s eyes widen as he clenches his abs, willing the crest of his approaching orgasm to subside—he’d much rather cut it off himself than have Shouyou pinch it off with his fingers. Shouyou chuckles at his sudden rigidity, thumb rubbing lightly against his skin.

“You can wait _juuust_ a bit longer, right, Atsumu-san?” He phrases it like a question, but Atsumu knows that the only answer that’ll get him a satisfying ending tonight is _Yes_. 

Atsumu nods, not trusting himself to speak, and Shouyou winks at him. “Good boy.”

Hand coming to grip Atsumu’s base, Shouyou descends once more, bringing Atsumu down a few inches before sucking again. Atsumu feels his groin tense as Shouyou drags himself to the tip, sucking all the while. He does this a few more times, Atsumu’s breath leaving in a puff of pants when Shouyou presses two fingers up against his perineum. They slide firmly along the spot between his legs, and Atsumu lets out a high-pitched yelp when they push indirectly into his prostate.

“Oh my God, Shouyou, please, I-I—” Atsumu doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say—maybe that he needs less, maybe more, likely that he just _needs_. Shouyou swipes once more along his perineum before pulling his head back, lips finding their way to his tip. He gives it a short peck before slackening his jaw, his tongue starting to draw circles around Atsumu once again. The hand around his dick tightens, pumping up and down at a slow but steady pace. Atsumu feels a coil of heat builds again in his stomach—his toes curling into the cold, tile floor—as Shouyou’s hand moves forward between his legs.

Suddenly, two wet fingertips prod at Atsumu’s entrance, and something snaps in his gut, the looming threat of orgasm suddenly surging to the surface only a hair's width away. A moan climbs up and out of his throat, but it’s incomplete, chopped into stuttered beats by his erratic breath.

Shouyou circles his fingers against his hole in earnest as his tongue continues to swirl around Atsumu’s tip. Atsumu manages a cracked “ _Shouyou!_ ” before he comes, tide crashing against his veins and filling him to the brim with heat. Shouyou pulls off before any release ends up in his mouth, but his hand raises up a second too late, a few drops slipping between his fingers and smattering his face with white. Atsumu shuts his eyes as the orgasm completely overtakes him, hands gripping Shouyou’s hair for purchase as he continues coming, shocks of pleasure zipping through every bit of his body. Shouyou’s free hand strokes him through the rest of it, pumping at his base and no higher.

Just as it came, all of his energy leaves him at once—one moment, Atsumu’s drawn as tight as a bow; the next, he’s slumped over like a puppet with cut strings. He gives himself a few moments to breathe before hunching down fully, eyes scanning the floor for the tiny bottle of lube. Spotting it to his left, Atsumu reaches for it, but Shouyou smacks his hand out of the way, picking it up himself instead.

“No, no, you’re coming down; you don’t need to do anything,” he tuts, moving the bottle behind him. Atsumu’s nose scrunches, and he opens his mouth to protest when Shouyou brings his pointer finger up, pressing it to his lips. “I’m close. And, besides”—he licks a drop of Atsumu’s come off of his lips—“don’t you wanna watch?”

A tingle of anticipation runs through Atsumu’s veins—Shouyou _knows_ just how much Atsumu enjoys watching him get off. Shouyou must see his answer in his eyes, for he stands from the ground and takes a few steps back until he’s seated on the bench. Atsumu blinks, the reality that they’re still in the team locker room having completely slipped from his thoughts. He stands a little straighter—heels hitting the back of the wall—as Shouyou wraps a hand around himself. Atsumu’s eyes widen as he notices the hand that Shouyou’s using—the one that he used to block Atsumu’s release from painting his face.

He’s jerking off with Atsumu’s come.

Despite just having finished, Atsumu’s dick twitches at the realization. My _God_ , can Shouyou literally get any hotter?

His question is answered quickly— _yes_ —as Shouyou starts stroking himself in earnest, his thumb stopping to rub around his slit occasionally as he reaches his head. His free hand comes up to pluck at one of his nipples, and his head tilts back as he moans, the rich sound bouncing off the metal of the lockers. Atsumu feels himself drown in another rush of heat as Shouyou cracks an eye open to stare at him, a hint of a smile on his lips. His hand moves up his chest to his neck, trailing his fingertips along his jawline. He taps his lips with two fingers a couple times before dipping them into his mouth, and Atsumu wheezes at the sight, abs clenching. When they get home, that’s where _Atsumu’s_ fingers are going to be—he’s making it happen. 

Shouyou shudders, his groan stifled by his fingers, and Atsumu leans forward. He can tell that he’s reaching the end. As predicated, with a final few pumps along his head, Shouyou comes, a string of airy breaths and quiet whines leaving his lips as he jerks himself through his orgasm. He puts his free hand over his tip, white drops of release seeping through his fingers and running along the back of his hand.

Atsumu takes a deep breath, still bone-tired but temporarily invigorated just enough by Shouyou’s display to walk over. He bends down to pick Shouyou’s towel off of the floor; Shouyou takes it with a small smile, his eyes still hazy. After wiping off his hand and face, he flops dramatically down onto the bench, his limbs hanging loosely at his sides. Atsumu lifts Shouyou’s head up before maneuvering his legs under him, plopping it back onto his lap as he sits. He brings a hand to the top of Shouyou’s head, lightly running his fingers through his locks. Shouyou lets out a sigh as his eyelids flutter shut.

“I can still come over tonight, ya?” Atsumu asks once Shouyou’s breath has slowed to normal. 

“Yeah, of course,” Shouyou answers, eyes opening to look up at him. Atsumu continues to card his hand through his hair, humming.

“Good, because I’m absolutely repayin’ you back for that.”

Shouyou sticks his tongue out at Atsumu, rolling his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that sex isn’t a transaction? I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Atsumu taps his nose a few times in reproach. “And how many times do _I_ have to say that I don’t feel like I hafta, but that I _wanna_ give back. You’re just more creative in comin’ up with how to start. I’m always happy ‘nd willin’ to follow up after.”

Shouyou rolls his eyes again, but a smile flits across his face as he shuts them again. Atsumu keeps playing with his hair, letting the short strands run off his fingers like water. He stares at Shouyou’s face for a bit, admiring his dark lashes and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks. Honestly, Atsumu to this day is a bit in awe at the fact that he managed to snatch up Shouyou—that Shouyou chose _him_ , of all people to be with—but he’s certainly not complaining. Doesn’t change the fact that Shouyou is so strikingly beautiful, inside and out, that Atsumu sometimes feels the urge to climb a mountain and scream about it. But since he’s a sane human (and there are no mountains conveniently nearby), Osamu ends up hearing the brunt of his adoration, much to his brother’s chagrin. 

As Atsumu’s mind starts wandering, his eyes follow, and they quickly catch sight of the tube laying on the floor. 

“Where’d ya get that lube, by the way? It’s so ... tiny.” 

Shouyou tilts his head to the side, staring down at the floor out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I was at the store looking for other stuff, and there was a deal on that brand. Kinda like how when you get a handle from the liquor store, sometimes a sample bottle will come attached to the neck of the bottle. How’d it feel?” 

Atsumu shrugs. “Like lube.” Shouyou laughs, hand coming up to pinch his nose. Atsumu huffs out a clipped breath, but let’s Shouyou do his thing. Shouyou is beautiful, but he’s also one of the weirdest people on the planet. Luckily, his eccentricities are just another part about him that Atsumu appreciates.

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t be investing in “Maximum Pleasure, Deionized Water-Based Lubricant,” then?”

“What we got at home works just fine,” Atsumu says. “No need to get fancy.”

Shouyou hums, rolling his head lazily back and forth on Atsumu’s thigh. Atsumu raises an eyebrow at him, and Shouyou winks before crunching forward, hauling himself to seated on the bench. He swings his legs over to one side and stands, reminding Atsumu of the other thing. 

“Those knee pads were quite a shock. I thought you were gonna ask to go another round in the gym after we showered and I was like ‘Nooo, I just wanna go home and bang.’” 

Shouyou chuckles as he walks over to his locker. “Well, you should be grateful for ‘em, ‘cause they made sure you didn’t have to wait. And, besides”—he shoots Atsumu a glance over his shoulder, smiling cheekily—“you know that I like surprises.” 

Rolling his eyes fondly, Atsumu stands as well, travelling the short distance to his own locker next to Shouyou’s. Clicking open the metal door, he asks, “What inspired them?” Learning the path to which Shouyou comes up with their sexual escapades is always fun; Atsumu wasn’t joking when he said that Shouyou’s good at getting creative.

“Well, I got the travel bottle lube and was like. Okay, well I gotta pack this in my bag now for emergencies.” Atsumu laughs—he supposes that there have been a couple of times where he and Shouyou have been going at it and a lack of lube has prevented them from going further.

“And then a couple days ago, I was like, “Oh my God, what if we fucked in the locker room! That would be hot, right?”” Shouyou pulls his bag out of his locker, raising his eyebrows at Atsumu. Atsumu nods; yes, it certainly was.

“But then I thought the floor would be _so_ uncomfortable to kneel on, not to mention extremely gross and sweaty. But then I was diving around for receive practice the other day and had the epiphany: kneepads! And, voilà!”—Shouyou slams his locker shut—“we’re here.”

Atsumu nods appreciatively. “That we are.” He takes out a clean shirt and sweatshirt, throwing them on. When he’s finished pulling them both over his head, Shouyou’s staring at him, tugging up a pair of jeans.

“They totally helped, too. Maybe we should stay late at practice more often.” He holds Atsumu’s gaze for a second—a faint smirk on his lips—before grabbing for something out of his bag on the floor. 

Atsumu hums a note of assent. “Yeah, I agree. The sex was alright, I guess, but I think I enjoyed your one-man performance in the shower a bit more, ta be honest.” He’s smirking as he turns back to his locker, reaching for his briefs and pants.

Shouyou whips him in the butt with some kind of fabric, and Atsumu yelps. “Don’t lie. You were on the verge of blowing your load that entire blowjob.” Shouyou tugs the shirt over his head as Atsumu glares at him. 

“But anyone can give me a blowjob,” Atsumu points out. “Yer melodious voice is yers and yers alone.”

Shouyou side eyes him, but a blush fills his cheeks; it’s quickly covered as he tugs on a sweatshirt. “Don’t get all romantic on me, Atsumu-san. It doesn’t look right on you.”

Atsumu brings a hand over his heart. “Shouyou-kun! How couldja say somethin’ so cruel to my face?” Shouyou snorts, and Atsumu’s frown deepens. “Okay, but if I’m not a natural romantic—which, okay, fine, yer probably right—then what _is_ my relationship brand?” Shouyou hums in contemplation as Atsumu finishes pulling up his pants and hauls his duffel bag out of his locker.

“Hmm, definitely the trophy wife. I do all the hard work while you sit back and look pretty.” Shouyou hauls his own bag onto his shoulder, smiling.

“Oi.” Atsumu takes a step forward and wraps his arm around Shouyou’s neck, giving him a noogie. “You better take that back by the time I’m finished with ya at home. Not the pretty part—that’s always true—but the other bits—” Atsumu’s cut off when Shouyou ducks down, popping his head out of Atsumu’s grasp. He moves to grab for him again, but Shouyou’s faster—slinging an arm around his shoulders and dragging him down into a kiss. All of the fight leaves Atsumu when those warm lips press softly against his. 

Shouyou breaks the kiss, settling back down onto his heels. “Alright then, pretty boy, let’s get home so you can restore your honor.” His hand slides down Atsumu’s arm, wrapping around his wrist and tugging him towards the door. Atsumu goes willfully, but his brows furrow in thought. 

“So does that make me Zuko? Then who’re you? Katara?” Atsumu’s nose scrunches at that. “Nah, that doesn’t feel right. You’re definitely more like Aang. But do people romance Zuko and Aang together?”

Shouyou shakes his head, an exasperated yet fond sigh leaving his lips. “I can’t believe I let Natsu rope you into watching all of Avatar with her last month.” He tugs on his shoes by the door, Atsumu doing the same.

“Hey, ya joined us!” Atsumu slides his wrist out of Shouyou’s grip, tangling their fingers together instead. “And, yeah, you’re totally Aang. Master of the Four Elements: Spiking, Setting, Serving, and Receiving. Or, if we’re goin’ in _that_ direction: Foreplay, Blowjobs, Rimjobs, and Anal—”

Shouyou kicks him firmly in the shin before swinging open the door to the locker room. “Why are you _like_ this?”

Atsumu sputters, affronted. “You? Askin’ _me_ that question?” Shouyou giggles as he walks into the hall, his hand squeezing around Atsumu’s.

“Alright, I’ll bite. If you’re Zuko, that means you can only master one of the four elements. Which one do you choose?”

“Setting, of course.” Shouyou gives him an incredibly unamused look. “Oh, you meant in _that_ way. Hrmm.” Atsumu runs his fingers through his hair. “I dunno. What do you think?”

“I’m all down for evaluating your skills one-by-one at home tonight and then getting back to you.” Shouyou turns to Atsumu, eyes half-lidded as something simmers behind his gaze. Atsumu flushes at the implication, the look Shouyou’s giving him reminding him of their end goal of the evening.

“Oh, hell yeah you can,” he says. “Better be real honest with me, too, so I know where I can improve.”

Shouyou hums as he pushes open the door to the training facility, a rush of cold hair consuming them as it swings outwards. “I’ll be sure to type up a thorough report of your performance.”

Shouyou looks over at him and breaks out into a grin, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles at himself. Atsumu lets out a laugh as well, a puff of white leaving his lips and evaporating into the cold air.

Shouyou squeezes his hand—palm warm against Atsumu’s own—and Atsumu squeezes back, his veins buzzing and heart full as they walk into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> first atsuhina porn 😳 god, i love writing sex where hinata runs the show.... am i projecting? perhaps. but anyways, hinata, if u r reading this & not yet dating atsumu in ur current universe, i am free this sunday for a valentine’s day date please call me text me anythi—  
> also, the title is a pun but it’s not apparent so i have to explain it:  
> \- locker room talk is typically used to describe the way men talk to each other in locker rooms, usually pretty crass & sexist shit. but atsuhina end up bantering in the locker room, and it’s sweet and they Respect Women  
> \- “for dummies” like the “For Dummies” book series that, according to wikipedia, “is an extensive series of instructional/reference books which are intended to present non-intimidating guides for readers new to the various topics covered.” but in this fic, atsumu and hinata are the literal dummies (dummy in _LOVE,_ that is)  
> please leave a kudos and/or comment and/or [retweet](https://twitter.com/rinpanna/status/1360396082711322625?s=20) if you enjoyed!! they are like water and sun 2 the sapling that is my atsuhina writing career. hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rinpanna) for regularly scheduled atsuhina brain rot  
> thanks for reading!! 🥰🥰


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